


I Just Want A Soulmate Who Doesn't Hate Me

by RebeccaAnabelBurrows



Series: A Study in Soulbonds (Unrelated Works) [3]
Category: DCU, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Injuries, soulmates' ink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebeccaAnabelBurrows/pseuds/RebeccaAnabelBurrows
Summary: Soulmates AU of the "special ink that makes the words you write on your skin appear on your soulmate's skin" variety.Hal had written to his soulmate all his life despite the lack of answer.Bruce had avoided answering to his all his life.That is going to change.--“Sorry. I just - I just want a soulmate who doesn’t hate me, you know ?” was written on his hand and wrist a few days later. Quickly followed by ”Should I give up on you ? I don’t want to but I’ll do if you ask."
Relationships: Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne
Series: A Study in Soulbonds (Unrelated Works) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687879
Comments: 7
Kudos: 200





	I Just Want A Soulmate Who Doesn't Hate Me

Bruce had noticed something written in silver lettering on his skin through his ripped off gauntlets.

He had taken them off entirely. _"WHERE ARE YOU ?"_ both hands read, and when Hal’s writing had become so sloppy ?

Bruce groaned at the surge of pain in his whole body as he reached with some difficulty into his suit. There. A silver pen. His hands were shaking a bit, and it wasn’t just from the pain. He had never used the pen before.

He had thought about it when he was much younger, but what could he have written of interest ? That didn’t seem to deter his own soulmate, who had kept writing things on his - their - skin regularly. 

_”Lonely. Care to join the chat ?”_ or _”That was a hell of a day. I can’t really tell you but…"_ were common occurrences. However, the long _“I am so stupid to keep doing this when it doesn’t seem to matter to you. My idiotic self can’t help but wonder if you can’t write or something but you’re probably just an asshole.”_ that ran from one arm to another hadn’t been that common.

 _“Sorry. I just - I just want a soulmate who doesn’t hate me, you know ?”_ was written on his hand and wrist a few days later. Quickly followed by _”Should I give up on you ? I don’t want to but I’ll do it if you ask._

His soulmate didn’t seem to be a very practical being. Arms were okay, but hiding the words on your hands was trickier. Thankfully it wasn’t a problem when he was Batman.

Bruce had never rewarded his soulmate with an answer. His soulmate had started writing to him not long after his parents’ death. His soulmate’s writing was shaky at first and they kept making spelling mistakes.

“They are still learning how to write.” Alfred had explained to him. “They are probably younger than you.” 

Bruce had nodded, and even if Alfred had encouraged him to reach out to his soulmate, he hadn’t. He didn’t need a soulmate, especially not one who couldn’t write properly. 

His soulmate’s handwriting got better and the spelling mistakes became less numerous as Bruce - and his soulmate, undoubtedly - grew up. It didn’t change Bruce’s opinion on soulmates : they were inconvenient at best. And some silver ink on your skin didn't mean anything. You didn't have to get out of your way to tie yourself to someone only because you could read their words on your skin. It shouldn't matter who his soulmate was or wasn't, honestly.

His own was especially clingy, he thought.

He wondered how boring one’s life must be to write almost daily to someone who had never granted you a single reply. With the years, this one-way-only correspondence thinned. It never ceased entirely. About every two weeks, Bruce received a message. A rant, usually. 

It felt very much like his soulmate thought he was his -by this time, Bruce was certain it was a he - personal diary. Bruce wasn’t sure to like it very much. He didn’t want to hear about his soulmate’s breakup with his boss or how he had failed to prevent something bad from happening and people had died. 

(Bruce had a feeling that his soulmate was either a spy or a criminal, maybe both. He seemed to have two jobs, a legal one and another that may have something to do with drug rings.)

Bruce only found out his soulmate was Hal a few years after the creation of the Justice League. They were getting along better these days, to the point Bruce was wondering if he should ask Hal out.

And then Bruce had seen Hal signing some paperwork for the League before handing it to him. 

The loops were familiar and Bruce dropped the documents when he realized why. Hal tsked and picked them up before putting them on the table. For once, Bruce’s lenses were down, which allowed Hal to track his eyes’ movement, focusing on the papers. 

“What ? Did I spell Green Lantern wrong ?” Hal said, but it had no bite to it, they were past that. 

It was more amused than anything else. 

“No. Your handwriting -” Bruce stopped before saying more but he could see it was too late.

He knew Hal’s eyes had widened under his mask, even if he couldn’t see them. 

“You’re -” Hal started hesitantly, but Bruce had already left the room. “Wait !”

 _”Should I stop writing ?”_ Bruce’s arm read that night as he undressed. 

Bruce contemplated taking the pen he always kept with him but had never used, and writing _”Please don’t”_ but he didn’t do it. 

There was no change for another hour, or maybe two but Bruce had waited, shirtless, for something more. 

_”You know, sometimes, I really hate you.”_ he could read on his left arm.

Well, he probably deserved that much.

Words appeared, in capital letters - Hal was right-handed but occasionally wrote on his right arm, always in big letters - on his other arm. 

_”And sometimes, I really don’t.” ___

__Bruce hadn’t expected this. He should say something. _ _“I am sorry”__ looked like a good start. He uncapped his silver pen and stared at the nib for a long minute before putting the cap back on. _ _

__The day after, Hal didn’t write anything. Maybe it was better that way but Bruce was starting to doubt it. He didn’t feel so good about the whole “ignoring your soulmate” plan now._ _

__Two days later, Hal had not written anything else on his -their- skin. They met briefly in the Watchtower for a meeting but didn’t address each other._ _

__Next time he saw Hal, it was in the med-bay._ _

__The League had been working on a case involving a gang of metahuman with a dangerous interest in explosive devices. Hal, Diana, Victor and Bruce were exploring one of their supposed warehouses, looking for evidence, when one - all ? - of them had triggered an explosion._ _

__One minute, they were checking shelves and communicating through comms, and then it was chaos._ _

__Bruce had been thrown against a wall and would probably not be alive if it wasn’t for the armour and reinforced cowl. His body hurt, and it was too hot, and there was only so much smoke the cowl could filter._ _

__His gaze fell on his hands, only half covered by the gauntlets now. Silver. It wasn’t there before he put the suit on, Bruce was sure of it. It meant Hal was alive. He wasn’t too worried about Diana and Victor was probably alright too. Good. He could rest for a bit and then he’ll look for them. He could hear them calling him, he just didn’t have the energy to reply._ _

__However he could do something to make them at ease. He looked for his pen - he always had it on him -, the silver one that would write on both his skin and Hal’s._ _

__His hands were shaking but he managed to write one word. He passed out from the effort._ _

__When Bruce woke up, he was in a hospital. Well, the Watchtower’s med-bay, but it was close enough. He passed out before he could even utter a word, but caught sight of Hal and Clark in the room before doing so._ _

__When he woke up again, Hal was glaring at him._ _

__“You’re an idiot.” he said, offering Bruce a cup of water and a frown._ _

__Bruce took it gratefully and drank small sips - it wasn’t his first stay here -._ _

__“Hal.” Clark said, shaking his head._ _

__Bruce took a glance at one and at the other._ _

__“Clark, would you mind giving Hal and I a few minutes ?” he exiged more than asked._ _

__Superman looked a bit unsure about what do to._ _

__“Are you going to fight ?”_ _

__“Not physically, Dad.” Hal quipped and Clark sighted as he left the room._ _

__After that, there was a long silence._ _

__“I thought you had things to tell me.” Bruce observed after a while._ _

__“Absolutely. What’s this ?” Hal said, shoving his left wrist into Bruce’s face._ _

__Bruce read the word he had written there before losing consciousness._ _

__“It’s legible.”_ _

__“That’s all you have to say ? It’s legible ? Damn you, you would have died if we hadn’t found you in time and you thought it was better to give me a half-assed one-word apology than a better sense of your localization ?”_ _

__Hal was laughing now and - no, he was sobbing, actually. Bruce took his hand - his own looked much better than after the explosion - hurray for alien technology - but felt very sensitive -even aliens had limits -._ _

__“I am so so sorry, Hal.” Bruce mumbled, bringing him closer to him and trying not to wince - the rest of his body seemed to have received the same treatment than his hands - in the process. “Sorry.”_ _

__“Stop saying that.” Hal murmured, wiping his cheeks. “Here”, he said, wrapping Bruce’s fingers around a cylindrical object delicately. “Not that you’ll make any use of it, if the last decades are anything to go by.”_ _

__The silver pen. Bruce looked at it, an arm still around Hal._ _

__“I didn’t want to hurt you.”_ _

__“I don’t think you ever do.”_ _

__Bruce hugged Hal a bit tighter but stayed mindful of his recent injuries - he couldn’t just hug Hal as tightly as he wanted. Which may be for the best because chances were it would scare the man away._ _

__“Forgive me. I dealt with the whole soulmates thing badly. I don’t like being coerced into things. Relationships should happen naturally, regardless of if someone is able to write on your skin or not.” Bruce said quietly._ _

__Hal closed his eyes. He needed it to be able to deal with Bruce’s absurdity, sometimes._ _

__“Wasn’t it what was happening, before we found out ? Weren’t you starting to feel things ? I don’t care about what is written on our skins, not really. I care about the real feelings I have, that have nothing to do with us being soulmates and everything to do with falling in love with a stubborn idiot.”_ _

__Bruce had a few ideas about how to answer that elegantly, all more or less similar to “you are what ?”_ _

__Instead he uncapped the silver pen and used it to write on his skin for the second time in his life. As he wrote, three little words appeared on Hal’s bare left arm._ _

__It was enough to entice Hal to kiss him. It was a bit uncomfortable, since Bruce was still recovering and they hadn’t figured each other’s body out yet. It was perfect._ _

__Bruce had no doubt they would practice a lot when he would get better, anyway._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't supposed to post anything today but it was a good day and I thought, why not.


End file.
